They Didn't Know
by some blue december
Summary: Relationships are complicated and no one not directly involved really knows what happens between a guy and his girl. His friends may pass judgment, but the fact of the matter is that there were a whole lot of things they just didn't know.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Outsiders

**A/N:** Thanks to RileysMomma for beta-reading

* * *

Everything seemed to be dead, or at least diminishing. The leaves beneath her feet were a horrible mustard colour. Laying flat on their back, their ends curling up like claws of a skeleton reaching out for her. The ones she stood on crunched beneath her feet, sounding like she was crushing some kind of precious jewel that would never be seen again.

She remembered helping rake up dead leaves when she was younger. Dragging her miniature rake along behind her and becoming frustrated when the leaves would escape in the gaps. Finally, after what would seem like hours of raking, she would be chased around the garden until she fell into the pile of leaves, laughing and wheezing for breath.

Now she just hoped she would be able to escape through the gaps of the leaves she had once tried to rake.

The amazing weather with the sun that had shone bright that morning had given way to purple clouds that reminded her of bruises; sinister looking varying in shades. Some so light they looked almost see through, as though one tiny poke at them with her little finger would cause them to float away in a million different directions. Others were as dark as the rotten plums she remembered seeing once in her neighbour's garden.

Even the company surrounding her had seemed to give up. From the fifty or so people who had been in almost this exact spot earlier that morning, ten were left. 'Course that was actually more than she had expected to be there. She hadn't expected more than six, and that was including herself.

But there were ten. Ten people with miserable looking faces who wanted to be there out of respect but really didn't want to be there at all. They all had the same look in their eyes, too; the look that said they wanted to get the hell outta dodge on the first chance given. She was pretty sure she had the same look in her eyes too because that's exactly what she wanted to do.

She couldn't though. She had to be there, right where she was. She didn't want to be, but she knew she'd never forgive herself if she skipped out on it.

The guy in the front - she supposed that made eleven people - was still talking, but she didn't pay any attention to what he was saying. Not only had she heard it all that morning, she didn't think she would be able to pay attention to anything anyone was saying, even if President Johnson himself came along.

Instead, she studied the faces of the nine other people who had turned up. None of them were crying and that simply made her try even harder than usual to keep herself in check. She wasn't about to start bawling in front of a bunch of guys. No matter the circumstances. They all looked regretful though. Even Tim Shepard, who she had never seen look anything but angry and mean.

The young boy looked really sad, though - regretful and sad. He looked like she felt; like he wanted to cry but wouldn't dare shed a single tear in front of every one there. Actually, she thought, glancing at his buddies, they all looked like that. His buddies did anyway. They all looked as though their toughness was just a front they were all putting on in front of each other and the other guys there.

Not Tim Shepard or the few of his gang who'd come with him, not Buck. Even Buck was managing to look as though he was keeping himself together just fine.

She looked back at the young one. She was sure she knew his name; it was something weird and different. She'd heard him being talked about a lot, especially lately, but still couldn't come up with anything that might even sound like it could be his name. She remembered what she'd been told, about him collapsing and being out cold for a few days. She wished she could've had that pleasure.

He looked at her suddenly, and she decided that he didn't just look sad; he looked heartbroken. Completely without hope, as if he'd lost so much and what was left just wasn't quite enough for him. She felt terrible for him. She couldn't even remember his damn name, but she felt as though she was in the exact same boat he was in.

Except that he still had plenty, of course. She knew his parents were dead, and he'd just lost two of his buddies, but he still had people to love him. He had two family members standing their right next to him; one with a strong hand on his shoulder, the other tightly holding his hand. He still had people.

Tears came close as she looked at him, and she hastily looked away. There was nothing else to look at though. It was either look at the faces of the people around her and have the risk of them seeing her cry, or else look at the wood in front of her and completely breaking down in front of them all.

She quickly decided she'd rather simply cry in front of them rather than break down. At least that's what she told herself, not willing to admit that the thought of actually looking at the wooden box she had avoided for the last half hour terrified her more than breaking down. She'd happily let Tim Shepard see her cry like a baby, red eyes, messy makeup and all, if it meant she didn't have to look at the box.

Blinking rapidly, she looked around until her eyes rested on a pair that were glaring at her. Steve Randle had never really liked her, but the hatred in his eyes right then was surprising. She supposed it shouldn't be. She knew what Steve and his buddies thought of her, but they had no idea.

She knew she hadn't been the best girlfriend. She had no excuse for it either. But she hadn't done it intentionally. She had just needed what couldn't be given. She needed protection, a bit of kindness, love. Love in more than just the physical sense. The real kind, the kind she did her best to give, but it was always batted away; unwanted.

She looked at Steve a moment, doing her best to be defiant, but unable to hold it. The tears still didn't come, but she had to look away. She couldn't stand to see such hatred aimed at her when she was sure he'd been told worse than what had actually been the case and when she was already feeling so bad herself.

She was feeling just as regretful as everyone there was looking, and wondered for a moment if it showed on her face the way it did on theirs. She didn't care if it did. If she was willing to cry in front of them, what was a little guilt?

And boy there was guilt. Not a little, a lot. She never meant for things to get so out of hand when she was with other guys while not entirely single. All she really wanted from them was a little company, a little affection. When things progressed to a kiss goodnight, it was never them she was thinking about. They always had dark, greasy hair, but it was always white, clean hair she imagined she was running her fingers through. And then, when they tried to go further, she always stopped them. She was sure Steve and his buddies didn't know that.

Not that it made any of it better. If she could go back and change things she would, but of course, she couldn't.

Already feeling guilty for so much, her unwillingness to look at the box was just about killing her. She could practically hear the taunting coming from inside of it. The nasty words about how much of a fucking girl she was being, underlined with a small amount of the humour and affection that she'd been shown on very few occasions.

She wanted to fight back, yell curse words and have it out, but she wasn't that stupid. She could yell all she wanted and, even if she heard arguing back, it would all be in her head. It wouldn't be real. It would never be real again.

She dragged her eyes away from the hole in the shoulder of Two-Bit's jacket and lowered them. Past his black t-shirt, blue jeans and dirty boots; over the grass and dead leaves that were still curling up towards her and finally, to the box, the coffin.

Her heart clenched painfully, and a couple of tears fell. It was too hard; she had to look away. But she couldn't. Her eyes were fixed on the wooden casket and she took a shuddering breath. Not wanting to believe what was inside, she thought about before; before the wooden box.

Things were never always good. The rudeness and lack of affection when she wanted it, mixed with her cheating made for absolutely terrible times. But when things were good, they were really good. They were the best.

When things were good, there was affection. Not always when needed, and definitely not as much as she wanted, but it was there, and it was there more than she ever expected. Sometimes it came at the most surprising times, like when other people were around. An arm around her shoulder, a kiss on the forehead or a dirty word whispered in her ear as it was nibbled on. There was affection.

She remembered when her Mom had died, and she hadn't wanted to spend the night alone. She had spent the evening at the Curtis', an arm wrapped around her shoulders all night, never once letting go. The rest of the night had been spent at Buck's. There had been no kissing, no touching, no talk of sex at all; just arms around her waist and a warm body to snuggle into. There hadn't even been any scoffs or rolled eyes when she had begun to cry.

She had been looked after.

When she had gone after those other guys for protection, for the security she could never get at home, it was only if she couldn't have the protection she wanted, the protection she needed. She never felt as safe with those other guys.

When she hadn't needed other guys, when she had the protection she craved, she had always felt safe. She had always been safe, secure. The arm around her shoulder would tighten, voices would get lower and fists would clench. She had been safe, looked after, cared for.

She wiped at the tears that were coming faster than she would've liked and glanced at Steve who was looking at the box. She bet him and his buddies didn't know any of that either.

They didn't know anything about anything. They didn't know about the almost soft, humoured smiles that were given to her when she got carried away on a spiel about something that had pissed her off. They didn't know about the worried eyes that had come to pick her up from the hospital after the car accident she'd been in that had killed her mother. They didn't know about the almost gentle touches after her first sexual experience.

She sobbed a little as she thought about that. It had been horrible, nothing like those silly romance novels she'd read had led her to believe it would be. It had been painful, and messy and not at all enjoyable. But afterwards had been nice, almost tender even. She had been held, had her hair smoothed down, her hairline kissed and been promised that next time would be better. And it had been.

She wiped her eyes, not caring about how bad her makeup was smudging or that she was close to outright bawling. All she could think about was how bad things had gotten in the last few weeks before the stupid coffin ever made an appearance.

She'd been left alone again. Alone, with no one to look out for her, to give her the warmth she needed. So she'd done the same thing she always did. She'd found someone to give her what she wanted and needed. Then, just like every other time, she'd been found out.

She'd given just as good as she got when it came to arguing. She knew she was in the wrong, but she had only done what she needed to in order to survive alone. Without him.

Without Dallas.

"Oh God," she whispered to herself, picturing the smirk he'd given her the last time she'd seen him.

It always took a few days for him to cool down after she cheated and after they argued. But then he was back to his usual self, giving her that cool look that always made her heart melt, telling her how it would only be days until she was back in his bed and if she wasn't in his bed, she'd be begging him to take her there.

And he was always right. The night before he'd headed up to the goddamn mountain she had practically begged. He had cornered her in the hall at Buck's, given her that look and kissed her, hard. Minutes later, she had been whimpering for him to take her to his bedroom, and he had. She always pleaded to be taken back, and he always took her back.

Then when she'd snuck out of his room at Buck's in the middle of the night, not wanting her dad to catch her out all night, she had turned to look at him one last time before she left. He had been awake, sitting up against the pillows, sheet covering his lower half, watching her. He had smirked at her and it hadn't been cruel or hateful. It had been the smirk he reserved for her, for when he was pleased with her.

Dallas Winston was not a beautiful person, inside or out. But his smirk was one of the most beautiful things she had seen in her life.

She bet his buddies didn't know about that night either.

She felt a hand land on her shoulder and looked up to see Tim Shepard standing next to her. The guy was a gang leader and not one for dealing with other people's shit, but he was obviously, in his own way, trying to comfort her. She wasn't entirely surprised. She knew him through Dally, and he wasn't one to just let a girl cry.

She looked at him through watery eyes, but he just continued to look straight ahead. Ignoring her, ignoring the box in front of them, ignoring everything it seemed. She wished she could do the same. If being out cold for a few days was out of the question, then being able to ignore everything would be her next choice.

The man in front of them all closed his book, said one finale prayer before shaking hands with the big guys in near the front and leaving. Leaving her alone with these boys, none of which was the boy she wanted and so badly needed.

She lifted her head to look at Steve again, tears still making their way down her face, but the hand on her shoulder turned her away from the glares she knew she would see.

Tim's arm held her around her shoulders, and he directed her to his car, muttering to his buddies about something as they went. She didn't know what, and she didn't care. She was just glad to be leaving.

They stopped in front of his car, and he opened her door for her. She held it open and stared blankly at him as he began talking to her. She heard what he was saying now, but she didn't want to. She already knew that Dally was no saint. She already knew that he had cheated on her. She knew that she had cheated more often, but that he never stopped at the goodnight kiss.

She didn't want to be told that Steve's anger towards her was unfair; she already knew that, though it wasn't completely fair, it wasn't entirely unfair. She didn't want to be told that Steve was only angry at her because she and Dally never got the chance to get back together like everyone knew they would, which left her being the one in the wrong. They didn't know.

She just stared back at him, sniffling and wiping her face until he sighed and gave up. He made his way around the back of the car and got in, calling for her to do the same.

But she couldn't. Not yet. She turned to face the direction they had just come. Steve, Buck and everyone else was gone. The place they had all been standing minutes earlier was deserted save for the wooden casket. Dally's coffin.

She remembered the feeling she'd had when she'd found out. Reading in the paper that her boyfriend - and he was her boyfriend again at that stage - was dead, that he had been killed. She had felt as though her heart was being ripped in half. As though there were two hands inside her, squeezing and wringing her insides until she had nothing left; as though her chest was closing in on her, making her breathing laboured.

She sniffed. Pushed that thought away.

She knew he had cared about her, in his own way. She didn't need anyone to tell her that. She wiped at her eyes and blew a kiss in the direction of the coffin. She thought of his cool eyes, his soft wispy hair, his rangy body and his smirk.

Sylvia had loved Dallas Winston, and she knew she always would. She bet his buddies didn't know that.


End file.
